


The Emptiness That Seeks A Soulmate

by Kateyfish (014469)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Identity Reveal, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Secret Identity, Shakespeare in Love AU, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 18:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15125030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/014469/pseuds/Kateyfish
Summary: Lord James ‘Bucky’ Barnes had been in love with the theatre since his ninth birthday, or rather, it might be correct to say that he had been in love with the idea of love as he saw it portrayed in the theatre. On his birthday, his parents had taken him to see Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet at the Criterion, and he had been hooked. He’d wanted to be an actor ever since, if only it was acceptable for young Lords from good Russian families to enter the theatre. Unfortunately for him, since his aristocratic Russian father had married his rich American mother there had been no mellowing of his old-fashioned views. George Barnes knew with the absolute certainty that only comes from centuries of privilege that his only son, James, would do as he was commanded and grow up to be a Lord, and that Lords did not work for a living, much less act for one.





	The Emptiness That Seeks A Soulmate

**Author's Note:**

> Written by [Kateyfish](https://kateyfish.tumblr.com)  
> Inspired by [TrishArgh's](https://frau-argh.tumblr.com) amazing art, which is embedded into the fic.  
> Beta read by the always wonderful, patient and very efficient Raven.

 

p>Steve Rogers awoke to a knocking at his door, the smell of coffee, and an insistent itch in his left foot. He hoped that the first brought the second and that the third would bugger off.

‘Steven! Come down immediately! I must have your attention!’

Steve groaned - why was Tony Stark at his door so early in the morning? Dragging his robe around his shoulders, Steve struggled towards the door of the dingy set of rooms he rented in the world’s coldest apartment building in Brooklyn. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. 

That Tony Stark, the renowned playwright, patron of the arts and richest man in Brooklyn, was standing at the door of a lowly actor like him might have come as a shock to Steve’s neighbors, but in fact he and Tony had known each other since boyhood. Steve’s mother had been Tony’s mothers’ private nurse in the time before illness and a car crash took them both away. 

‘My new play - you’ve got the part. You’re needed at once in rehearsals, don’t be late!’ 

Steve scarcely had time to grin before a loose collection of pages was shoved into his hand and Tony had turned and strode away down the corridor, his red and gold coat swinging through the grimy patches of light. Steve blinked down at the pages in his hand, which had been haphazardly typed through too many layers of onion-skin paper so that some of the words were barely visible. As usual, Tony hadn’t deigned to tell him the whole story - what part had he been given? Steve didn’t even remember auditioning for a new Tony Stark play. It was that sort of air-headedness, despite Tony’s genius with words, which had made him and Steve butt heads from time to time since they were very young. 

Steve reminded himself, as he swung his braces over his shoulders, that Tony was the Brooklyn Theatre Company’s most generous patron as well as the main playwright, and that he definitely should not be thinking about how much he’d love to punch the man in the face. Steve pushed his feet into old boots that badly needed blacking and polishing, pulled on his much-darned knit sweater and headed out of the door. 

#####

Lord James ‘Bucky’ Barnes had been in love with the theatre since his ninth birthday, or rather, it might be correct to say that he had been in love with the idea of love as he saw it portrayed in the theatre. On his birthday, his parents had taken him to see Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet at the Criterion, and he had been hooked. He’d wanted to be an actor ever since, if only it was acceptable for young Lords from good Russian families to enter the theatre. Unfortunately for him, since his aristocratic Russian father had married his rich American mother there had been no mellowing of his old-fashioned views. George Barnes knew with the absolute certainty that only comes from centuries of privilege that his only son, James, would do as he was commanded and grow up to be a Lord, and that Lords did not work for a living, much less act for one. James had been told ‘No’ time and time again when he’d asked to join a theatre group. At the age of twenty-three, he was still dependent on the wealth of his family, and therefore could not be seen to be at the theatre where his father might hear of it. His love of the theatre was almost the strongest force in his young romantic life, for James was sure that if he were ever to find love, it would be with all the passion and melodrama of the stage. He was sure of it. 

That James preferred the company of men to that of women was only one obstacle on the path to true love, for the history of the theatre was filled with secret lovers, star-cross’d and heroic, who pined and perished for one another, and some of them had even been given happy endings! Watching the great heroes and heroines of literature find love across all odds gave the young James a burning, eternal hope that one day, he might do the same. 

James, who had gone by ‘Bucky’ since youth, had snuck off to a speakeasy with his actor friend Sam Wilson for a few contraband gins when who should stand up but Tony Stark! He had shouted, through slurred English, that he wanted actors, actors now dammit!  
Bucky had raised his glass in support, and Tony had immediately taken a shine to him, telling him there and then that he had a part in Tony’s new play, which would doubtless be a work of genius, if he wanted one.  
That was how Bucky ended up here, in the new Brooklyn theatre shaking out his hair and rolling his shoulder muscles loose, stepping into an empty auditorium late at night to practice a speech that he knew almost by heart. 

#####

Steve froze in place when he heard the voice. He’d thought that he was alone in the theatre, having volunteered to stay late and pack away the props after a long day of rehearsals that had exhausted everybody. Clearly someone else hadn’t been able to resist the strange lure of an empty auditorium and the freedom to exclaim whatever was in your heart. 

‘What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?  
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?  
Unless it be to think that she is by  
And feed upon the shadow of perfection  
Except I be by Silvia in the night,  
There is no music in the nightingale;  
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,  
There is no day for me to look upon’

It was the Sylvia monologue from Shakespeare’s Two Gentlemen of Verona,’ one of Steve’s favorites, and the unknown speaker was certainly doing it justice. The voice was warm, masculine, a little oily in the way of well-worn leather, and with the slightest hint of an eastern European accent. Whoever the speaker was, he possessed such a yearning, mournful tone to his voice that Steve could absolutely believe that he was in love with Sylvia. Steve had to know who the speaker was. He stepped out from his hiding place in the velvet wings and onto the stage. The speaker had his back to Steve. He was mostly hidden in shadow, with loose brown hair that Steve didn’t recognize and shabby clothing which had clearly seen better days. In the half-light of the evening, the man looked ethereal and distant and heart-breakingly gorgeous.

‘That was beautiful,’ Steve murmured softly. 

The speaker spun around. Steve had one glimpse of panicked eyes, clear and wide and the color of slate after rain, before the man turned and ran. 

‘Hey!’ Steve gave chase, leaping over the edge of the stage and after the disappearing actor. ‘Hey! Wait up! I didn’t mean to scare you!’

The man didn’t listen, just grabbed his hat from the edge of the stage and jammed it on his head. Steve chased the man out of the theatre, but rounding the stage door he found that the man had disappeared without a trace. 

Steve sighed to himself and turned back into the theatre. Why would anyone want to run like that? 

#####

Bucky panted as he hauled himself back through the window of his family’s fashionable Manhattan townhouse and threw himself into bed. What had he been thinking, going to the theatre like that with his face on display? If his father had found out, he’d be sent away and then his new dream of being an actor would be over before it had begun. No, if he was going to be in Stark’s new play, he was going to have to be in disguise. 

#####

The Brooklyn Theatre Company had gotten a dedicated theatre, the Maria Stark Grand Theatre and Ballroom, three years ago. It was a monument to the latest art-deco architecture movement, designed by the country’s first female architect, Ms Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts. She and Tony had met and fallen in love while she designed a theatre monument to Tony’s late mother, and was now one of the major investors and patrons of the theatre in her own right. The actual construction of the theatre had been plagued by rumors that Tony had changed the designs every second day and demanded that ever-more-intricate extensions be added, with the result that Pepper’s original, elegant design had been coerced into what Steve privately thought of as ‘that big ugly building.’ He’d never know how Pepper managed to put up with any of it. 

As the theatre company assembled in one of the plain rehearsal spaces in the back of the theatre, Steve looked around at his fellow actors and actresses and noted the familiar faces he saw. Sam Wilson, the charismatic leading man, was chatting with Janet van Dyne, the company’s costume designer, and her husband Scott, the electrician and set-builder. Janet’s fashionable flapper-style bob perfectly framed her face and every pin in her clothing was perfect, in contrast to her husband who looked like he’d been hanging around in the flop-houses rather than attending a play rehearsal. In the corner, Bruce Banner, who was Tony’s mild-mannered co-writer and director, sat in the corner by himself, nursing a cup of tea and making notes on the script. He was an attractive older man with wavy, iron-grey hair. He wore clothing that was perpetually ten years out of date, and Steve smiled to see that he was wearing another of the long sack suits that he refused to get rid of. Natasha Romanov and her partner Clint Barton sat a few chairs down from Bruce, talking with Maria and Nick Fury, the two stage managers.

Bruce waved Steve over and the two men exchanged pleasantries. 

‘Not nearly enough men this year,’ remarked Steve.  
‘Oh don't worry about that!’ replied Bruce with a wry twist of humor on his face. ‘Tony got really drunk last night in the speakeasy behind the Rose and Curtain, he invited a whole load of drunkards to join the play today!’  
‘Oh Tony, no’ muttered Steve  
‘Oh Tony! Yes!’ came the loud reply from behind him. Tony Stark stood with his arms outstretched as though he was welcoming every drunken actor into his heart as well as his company.  
‘I hired a few good men to play some small parts, and also, that man over there. Murder-face guy. He will play the most important part of all - Death himself!!!”  
Steve could almost hear the exclamation points in that speech. He allowed his gaze to follow tongs outstretched finger to a man sitting alone in a dark corner. 

The new man had dark brown hair and eyes of a murky color that Steve couldn’t quite make out from across the room. He was tall, perhaps only an inch or so shorter than Steve himself, and broad-shouldered in the way that young men were supposed to be. Steve caught himself admiring those shoulders even as he dragged his eyes up to the man’s face. He was wearing a high-collared shirt and a hat pulled down low so that those murky eyes were half hidden. His outfit was baggy, long sleeves and loose pants above a shabby pair of brown brogues, and everything about him screamed out that he was uncomfortable. 

‘Him?’ asked Steve, a little incredulous. 

‘Just wait ‘til you hear him recite Shakespeare!’  
Tony waved his hand at Steve as though all his objections could be blown away with the cobwebs, which Steve supposed they could if you were the richest man in New York. 

‘Come on you dregs!’ called Tony, ‘Time to get to work! My play-’ Bruce gave a loud cough ‘-our play, Brucie Bear, our play - is a work of genius, and therefore you must all do exactly as I say on order for it to work!’ 

Steve sighed and stood. The first week of rehearsals were never fun. 

Three hours later, Steve was thunderstruck. The new guy, the one that Tony had picked up God-knows-where, was amazing. Tony’s new play was an epic love story, two childhood sweethearts separated by war and terror, reunited at last only to have one of them forget the other, making them enemies. The hero was a dashing Royal Navy Captain who vowed to help his lover regain his lost memories, while the lover was under the sway of an evil pirate Lord, fighting to regain control of his life despite the circumstances. The play had a sad ending, as the two lovers reunited just at the point where one of them sacrificed himself so that his lover could survive a fiery building inferno. For some reason known only to Tony and Bruce, the entire play was set in Shakespearean times, and took place on board a pirate ship, despite any evidence that piracy had anything to do with the storyline. 

Steve, playing the part of the Captain, was rehearsing his death scene. The new guy, who played the personification of Death, stalked the stage, moving counterpoint to Steve as they whirled around each other. The dance of Death brought the two men ever closer, finally winding around each other so tightly that the Captain was consumed by Death’s floaty, black robes. It was a melodramatic scene, the sort that Tony loved best. Steve privately thought that was because it suited his personality so well. 

Lying at the feet of the new guy, Steve held still as he ‘died’ and Death was triumphant. 

‘Scene! Great stuff, guys, take a break!’ called Bruce.  
Silently, the new guy bent down and offered him a hand up, which Steve took. As he rose, he got a good look at the man’s face and instantly found him among the most handsome men he’d ever seen, with wide, slate-grey eyes that were deep wells of personality and feeling. 

‘You!’ he exclaimed.

‘What?’ The new guy whispered.

‘You were here last week – you were speaking out here, and I disturbed you, and you ran off.’

The new guy flushed red and looked around as though waiting for someone to tell him off. 

‘Yeah, ok that was me. I was just practicing.’

‘Why’d you run?’ pressed Steve.

The man sighed. ‘I don’t know. I was just startled, I guess,’ he replied, looking down at his feet. 

‘You were amazing,’ murmured Steve. He had been feeling guilty since that night, and all of a sudden shy at the thought that the beautiful man who had recited Shakespeare with such passion was actually a member of their company. 

‘I’m Steve Rogers,’ Steve held out his hand. 

‘Call me Bucky,’ the new man took his hand and they shook. Steve noticed how soft Bucky’s hands were, how warm. He looked up at Bucky’s face, catching the barest hint of an emotion there that he didn’t know how to name. It vanished just as soon as he could see it. 

‘Well, Bucky, welcome to the Brooklyn Theatre Company. I hope you’ll enjoy it, and I think you’re going to be great.’

Bucky blushed a little at that, turning the high points of his feline cheekbones a raspberry-pink. Steve thought those little spots of color made him look even more handsome, and so sweet. Instantly, Steve himself blushed in return, willing himself to look away. Getting a crush on his fellow actor was something he really didn’t need right now. 

Bucky opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by Tony, who was standing on a wooden crate and waving an ostentatious red-and-gold cane in the air. 

‘Once more, from the top!’

#####

Bucky smoothed his coat down over his arms, trying to stay still as his valet brushed down his back and adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket. In the mirror, he could see that he looked every inch the young, rich American that his father wished him to be. His dress shirt was starched white broadcloth with a wide collar, nestling a white silk bowtie at his throat. His black dinner jacket was cut to fit him exactly, hanging shorter at the front while swooping down to his knees in graceful swallow-tails at the back, and his black slacks had black silk braids down the outer seam of each leg. 

Bucky held out each wrist as his valet fastened small cufflinks into the buttonholes of his French-cuffed shirt. Each cufflink was a small red star, the emblem of his father’s house, and a match for the pin he slid into his lapel. 

His valet stood back, examining Bucky from every angle to check for imperfections. 

‘I believe it is time, my Lord,’ he said with the finality of someone who had had to coax Bucky into attending yet one more of his father’s intolerable formal balls despite having been told by a very drunk Bucky only three weeks before that he was never attending one of those wretched things again. 

‘Thank you, Sitwell.’

‘You look very well, sir. I believe you may have to push away all your suitors tonight.’

‘I believe they are all after my money, or my title, or both. Whenever I meet another daughter of my father’s friends, I just know that all they can see is a walking money-bag.’

‘Better a wife with no scruples than no wife at all, my Lord.’

‘How can you say so, Sitwell? If I am to take a spouse, it will be for love, not for money.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Can you tell me what we are celebrating tonight? What excuse has my father found to drink and throw money around?’

‘I believe this evening is a fundraiser for the arts, my Lord. That Tony Stark is here, and he’s brought a few of his _actors_ with him.’ Sitwell could make the word ‘actors’ sound like riverbed slime in the way that only a true snob could. 

Bucky blinked. 

‘What? Tony Stark has brought _who_ with him?’

Actors, my Lord. A terrible bunch, I’m sure. I saw them as they came in, not one of them wearing suitable shoes.’ Sitwell sniffed to make his opinion of men who wore unsuitable shoes known. 

Bucky pulled nervously on his jacket lapels, undoing all of Sitwell’s straightening. His mind was racing – why had his father allowed actors into this ball? What if one of them recognized him, what if his father was more familiar with the company than he’d thought? He’d be disgraced, sent away from New York, and probably would never see any of them again. _Never see Steve again,_ his mind supplied. Bucky couldn’t deny that he’d found the strong young man handsome, kind and soft-spoken in person but with a boundless talent to lead a production. 

Bucky shook his head and smiled at Sitwell. 

‘I must take pains to avoid them, if they are as disreputable as you say,’ he replied, hoping to give himself the perfect excuse not to talk to anyone who might recognize him. 

With a hefty sigh and another head shake, Bucky walked out of his rooms and into the party. 

It was, as he knew it would be, stuffy and old-fashioned. His father deplored the delights of jazz music and fast dancing which were sweeping across the country, preferring the ponderous symphonies and traditional tunes of his own classical youth in Russia. It seemed that a lot of New York’s high society agreed with him, as they looked content to sway to the sounds of a classical orchestra. The large ballroom was decked out in finery for the occasion, a long dinner table laden with food down one side of the ballroom, the sprung floor cleared in the center for couples to dance. Waiters in white jackets held aloft silver trays of champagne, or the bar was stocked with every kind of liquor imaginable, and manned by bartenders eager to make a shimmering cocktail for any gentlemen feeling adventurous. Bucky’s own parents could not be seen in the crush of people, but he was sure they were dancing somewhere.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ came a deep voice from behind him.

‘Oh! Lord Pierce, you made me jump.’

Bucky turned and shook the hand of the older man. He did not know much about Pierce, only that he came from a very good family and was one of his father’s oldest friends in America.

‘You look as though you were thinking that you wish to dance,’ Pierce continued,

‘Indeed I was not,’ started Bucky, but Pierce took him by the arm and marched him to the dance floor. Not wanting to make a scene, Bucky complied, going along with very bad grace. Once they got onto the dance floor, it didn’t take long for Pierce to thrust Bucky into the arms of a young woman with dark brown hair, red lipstick and a calculating smile, who introduced herself as Dottie, the niece of Lord Pierce. The dance was an old one, a quadrille that Bucky had known since childhood. His very traditional parents had insisted that their only son learn the intricate Russian steps, but even though Dottie seemed to be an American, she danced them very well indeed. 

Bucky and Dottie stepped and twirled around each other, Bucky trying to miss the sharp edge in her eyes every time they met, and the way her hand seemed to hover over Bucky’s own without touching. When it was time for them to swap partners, Bucky turned away with relish, but found himself dancing with a man whose corn-flower blue eyes and strong build were more familiar, but so much more welcome if only they’d been in another circumstance. Bucky froze for an instant, before the polite confusion in his partners eyes forced him into motion.

‘Lord James Barnes, pleased to meet you,’ Bucky bowed as the music started up. 

‘Steven Rogers,’ Steve replied with a bow of his own, before the next dance started. The Waltz was one of Bucky’s favorites. When their hands touched, Bucky twitched as Steve laid his palm flat against Bucky’s, warm and calloused and comforting. They stepped into the dance, Steve leading as Bucky was content to follow. 

‘I haven’t seen you here before, Mister Rogers?’ asked Bucky, desperate to gauge whether or not Steve recognized him. 

‘No, sir. I confess I feel out of place here. I am an actor in Stark’s new company and this is, in fact, my first ball.’

‘You dance very well, then.’

Steve blushed and stepped on Bucky’s foot in reply.

‘Ah! You spoke too soon, I’m afraid, my Lord. What I know of dancing comes from the stage, nothing more. Nothing like you, you truly are a master of the dance floor,’ Steve looked down at his feet as he spoke, which Bucky found endlessly endearing. 

‘You flatter me too much,’ Bucky stalled for time while trying to keep his own blush under control. 

‘Not at all, my Lord!’ Steve’s voice was just a little too loud as he replied, and Bucky smiled at the man’s nervousness.

‘Please, call me –’ he paused ‘ – James.’ Phew. He had almost asked Steve to call him Bucky. 

‘My Lord! – err, James. Please call me Steve.’

‘Well, Steve, please believe me when I say that dancing with you is the high point of my evening so far.’

Steve hid a smile at that, and Bucky smiled in response. Hidden behind the mask of aristocracy, Steve apparently didn’t recognize him as his new colleague from the theatre, and this made Bucky bolder. He danced closer to Steve than he’d allowed himself, feeling the way the man’s arms held him so securely, and yet gently, as though Bucky was the most delicate blossom on earth. His footwork, admittedly, left a lot to be desired, but the expression of sweetly determined stubbornness, and the way he counted under his breath in time with their steps, left Bucky more focused on his mouth than on his feet. They turned through the dance floor together, dipping and swaying in time, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a frisson of lust thrill through him every time their hips brushed against one another. 

At the end of the dance, he found himself reluctant to leave the other man.

‘Would you like to step outside with me? It is so hot in here and I believe we would both benefit from a walk in the gardens,’ Bucky blurted out, not ready for Steve to leave his side just yet. 

‘I would love that,’ replied Steve, but before he could reply, they were interrupted. 

‘Why don’t you introduce me to your friend, James?’ It was Pierce, damn him. 

‘Lord Barnes, this is Steven Rogers. Steven, Lord Alexander Pierce.’

‘I have never seen two men dance that one before. Just watching you two dance made me wince,’ Pierce started. Bucky could feel his own face flushing in shame, but Steve just straightened his back and smiled. 

‘Well, I never was much of a dancer, my Lord,’

‘Are you one of these… _actors_ we’ve heard about? Mr Stark brought you all here as some kind of _amusement,_ no doubt, and certainly your dancing was amusing in itself.’

Steve lifted his chin, ‘I am an actor, sir, and I am currently rehearsing with Mr. Stark, although why that should make me or my friends an amusement to you is beyond me.’

Pierce smiled coldly, while Bucky internally cringed. 

‘Lord Pierce, have you seen my father tonight?’ asked Bucky – anything to get that predatory smile from Pierce’s face. 

‘Of course. I’m surprised if you haven’t. But, I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future anyway.’

 _What was that supposed to mean?_ A sense of dread lodged itself in Bucky’s gut, cold and damp and creeping. 

‘Now, _Mister_ Rogers, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a moment alone with Lord Barnes…’ Pierce asked. 

‘Of course.’ Steve bowed, although Bucky could see that he was reluctant to leave the two of them alone, and left them. 

‘What is this about, Alex?’ asked Bucky sharply. 

‘Your father has given me permission to wed you to my niece. I expect you and Dottie to be married before the end of summer.’

Bucky could only stare, gulping in air like a fish out of water. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked away from Pierce’s cold smile. Spotting his parents across the room, Bucky made a beeline for them. 

‘Have you really just sold me off to Lord Pierce?’ he demanded. His father, who was in the middle of a conversation with Tony Stark, looked furious at the interruption. 

‘James! Where are your manners, son? It is not right to interrupt your father like that.’

‘Answer the question, father.’ Bucky was livid. Behind his father, Tony seemed to be unable to decide what to do, his eyes bugging out of his face as he tried to look anywhere but at what was happening right in front of him. 

‘Yes, if you want to know, I did.’

‘But I do not want to marry this Dottie!’ Bucky almost shouted.

‘You’ll marry her and be damn grateful about it,’ came the terse reply.

Bucky spluttered in rage, about to say something that he would regret, when he was saved yet again by Tony Stark. 

‘Lord Barnes! Seems that congratulations are in order, let me get you a drink!’ Tony grasped Bucky’s arm and led him away from his father, still unable to say anything in reply. As soon as they were out of earshot, Tony turned to him. 

‘That’s rough, what I just heard. My old man’s about the same, never listens to what I want and expects me to be grateful for his interfering. Listen, I just had to get you away from there. We haven’t met, but I’m Tony Stark, and if you ever want to make your old man really angry, give me a call. I specialize in aggravating people.’ 

With a wink and a smile, Tony turned away, leaving Bucky speechless. Despite all the bluster that he put on at the theatre, Tony Stark was turning out to be the friend he never knew he needed. 

Bucky took a moment to collect himself before heading back into the party. He hoped it was not too late to find Steve. 

‘If you’re looking for your actor friend, don’t. I had him thrown out for upsetting you.’ Pierce’s gravelly voice came from just over Bucky’s left shoulder. 

‘Go to hell, Alex,’ snarled Bucky, before leaving the ball and stumping upstairs to bed. 

#####

‘And then this old guy just blurted it out, just like that! He’s engaged to the man’s niece! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so hurt!’ 

Steve knew he was ranting, but really, he had been brooding all day about the fate of the beautiful Lord Barnes that he’d met at the ballroom. Sam was a sympathetic ear when they’d come out for a meal after rehearsals, and Steve was feeling better just talking to him about it. Bucky, although he rarely spoke and kept his hat pulled tightly around his ears, was also listening raptly. 

‘I just feel bad for the guy, you know? He was the most amazing man, really – umm… and while we were dancing he was so… y’know…. he was....’ Steve’s blush grew almost beetroot in color, ‘But then, when Pierce appeared, he really clammed up. Looked almost scared of him.’

The expression on Bucky’s face was one of understanding, if a little pained. 

‘Have you talked to Lord Barnes since then?’ Sam asked.

‘No, I haven’t’ Steve sat back in his seat at the diner, the cushioning of the booth seat sticking to him a little. In truth, Steve had started to write out a letter to James, but hadn’t had the courage to finish it. After being kicked out of the party by Pierce’s men, he had wondered the streets in a righteous rage, not knowing if he should have gone back and stood up for James or not. Those few moments, as they danced and flirted a little, had made Steve’s body light up with energy, and he was dying to know more. 

‘The man’s engaged now, Buck. I can’t go writing him letters. It would be indiscreet.’

Sam nodded. ‘The situation sounds complicated, man. Maybe you shouldn’t get involved if you think that either you or he could get hurt.’

A complicated look passed over Bucky’s face. ‘What if it were a secret letter?’ he urged, ‘telling James how you feel about him?’

‘How do I tell him how I feel? I couldn’t even dance with him without stepping all over him, how am I supposed to tell him how I feel?’

Bucky’s eyes shifted to the left, then flashed back up to Steve’s face again. 

‘Well, can you practice? Say, with me? Tell me about James’s eyes, perhaps.’

‘His eyes… I look into them and know myself. His eyes are so kind, and so intelligent.’

Bucky let out a quick hiss of breath and shifted in his seat. ‘What about his lips?’ he asked. 

Steve thought back to James’s face. 

‘His lips are like the rose, pink and full, but delicate too. I…’ Steve trailed off, his brain exploding with embarrassment that he would say these things, even to Bucky.

‘Anything else? You’re doing great, Steve.’

‘Well, his _body!_ ’ Steve allowed his imagination to embellish the feel of James’s body against his as they danced the night away. He knew that it was illegal to express such opinions of another man’s body, but right now, carried away in the arms of fantasy, he didn’t care.

‘His body?’ questioned Bucky.

‘Yeah…’ Steve sighed, ‘he’s so….’

Bucky smiled a tiny, private smile that Steve missed entirely. Caught up in his fantasy of James, Steve did not notice how Bucky was rubbing a hand over his reddening face, nor that he was shifting in his seat each time Steve sighed. 

‘I think you should write to him, Steve, or visit him, or something. The two of you clearly had a connection.’ 

Visit James? Steve tried to picture himself sipping tea with James and his father in their lofty ballroom, but Lord Pierce’s arrogant face kept popping up. Still, it wasn’t a terrible suggestion…

‘I’d have to visit him at night. Maybe in secret. Maybe I should visit him right now?’

‘Err, Stevie, it’s getting kinda late, maybe not _right_ now –’ Sam was always the voice of reason, but right then Steve did not want to hear it. 

‘No, Buck, you’re right!’ You could never say that Steve didn’t follow his own heart. ‘I should visit him right now!’ Steve slapped a dollar down on the table to cover their meal and rushed out of the restaurant. He hoped that Bucky and Sam would forgive him for his rudeness, but after all, thought Steve as he ran through Central Park, Bucky was the one who encouraged him to talk to James, so he couldn’t be all that mad about it. 

Steve made it to James’ house just as the moon rose. He scaled the fence, scooted across the gardens, but stopped short when he realized that he had no idea which window was James’s. 

#####

Annoyed beyond belief, Bucky threw himself in through his window moments before he saw the dark shape of Steve Rogers jump down from his garden wall. He had left the garden gate open for that idiot when he’d come in by carriage minutes previously, but Steve didn’t even check the gate, just vaulted the wall as though it were nothing. Bucky had to admit, that sort of physicality was attractive in a man. Bucky threw off his sweaty clothes and changed into nightwear, a long night gown and quilted smoking jacket that hid his flushed appearance. He had just time to fling open the shutter doors to his balcony and drape himself over the ledge before Steve appeared. 

‘James! Psst, James!’

‘Steve?’ Oh how Bucky hated this deception already! He wished he could tell Steve who he really was, but some fear in his heart stopped him. He’d just about die if Steve rejected him now. 

‘Yes, it’s me. Look, James, I…’ Steve trailed off, and Bucky’s heart went out to the poor man. In the dim light, he could see Steve kicking at the ground with his shoe, blond hair messed up from the run. Steve wheezed a little, a remnant of his childhood asthma, Bucky knew, and cleared his throat. In the moonlight, Steve’s chest appeared to heave from where he’d been running. It made the edges of his collarbones look more pronounced than in real life, his shoulders broader. Bucky wanted to trail hi hands and mouth along the lines of his collarbones. 

‘James, I had to come here. I thought that you might want to talk?’ Steve clammed up once more after getting those words out, and Bucky took pity on him. 

‘I wanted to talk to you too, Steve. I have done since you left the ball.’

‘I didn’t leave of my own will. Lord Pierce kicked me out.’

Not for the first time, Bucky felt ashamed of the man he now had to call his fiancée.

‘I’m so sorry, Steve. I was enjoying our dancing.’

‘So was I.’

Steve’s voice had gotten lower and more gravelly as they spoke, his breathing settling out until he was every inch the commanding stage presence with whom Bucky was familiar. 

‘Steve? I’d love to continue talking to you, but perhaps not right here.’

Bucky pointed to the trellis that helped roses climb up the side of the building. It was the same trellis that Bucky himself had climbed only days before when returning late from rehearsals. 

‘Climb up here!’ he called. 

Bucky helped Steve over the barrier of his balcony, noticing how aware he was of the other man’s arms. Steve was wearing a simple dark blue jacket over his smudged shirt, but the sleeves strained at their seams every time Steve used his powerful arms to haul himself up the side of the building. Bucky steadied Steve when he finally arrived, and there was a moment of longing when Bucky finally got within touching distance of those collarbones. He kept his hands resolutely at his sides, but didn’t hesitate to smile at Steve. Steve was looking at Bucky with a sort of deep-down smile in his eyes, the kind that made Bucky want to fall into them because he knew he’d be safe. 

‘You actually came back to talk to me,’ Bucky breathed. Actually having Steve here in his bedroom had ramped up the intimacy of this conversation in a way that talking over his balcony never could. 

‘Of course,’ Steve replied, equally as hushed. 

Bucky stepped towards Steve, breathing starting to become labored as Steve lifted his hand to entwine it with Bucky’s. The simple gesture, so artless and so plain, nevertheless held within in such symbolism and sweetness to Bucky that he couldn’t help what he did next. Pulling Steve in, he leaned forward, still with their fingers linked, and kissed him. 

Steve looked shocked to the core, but he didn’t pull away. That first kiss was gentle, exploratory. The purity of its intent was quickly sullied by the next kiss which dove deeper, like a bird through blue skies. Their lips touched and Steve moaned slightly, returning the kiss with equal heat. Steve broke their joined hands and brought both of his up to cradle Bucky, reminiscent of their first dance. Bucky brought their hips together so that their bodies were flush. With one hand, he held Steve’s impossibly tiny waist tightly, and with the other, he finally got his wish to caress those collarbones which peeked out of the neckline of Steve’s shirt. Steve’s skin was warm, as he knew it would be, with a lingering damp from his man run over here. That didn’t put Bucky off, as it made Steve’s natural smell all the more potent. Steve smelled of home, of hot tea on cold mornings, of fireside and rain on rocks, walking in summer meadows. Bucky breathed out a sigh of contentment as Steve tightened his arms a little. 

‘I’ve been wanting to do that since we met,’ Steve whispered. 

‘Me too,’ Bucky knew that Steve would not guess that he was thinking of much earlier, when they’d walked the stage boards together in a dance as passionate and inevitable as their current kisses. 

‘Oh, James, I want to…’ he heard Steve start, and the thought of this enormous, muscular man blushing and stammering over his words just because he was kissing Bucky made his knees weak.

‘You are everything to me, Steve.’ Maybe that was a bit too intimate for someone who was only supposed to have met Steve once before now, but in the moment, Bucky couldn’t lie. Steve was intoxicating, all around him, and he felt reborn from the heat of Steve’s fire. Steve made a little, wounded noise at hearing that, and stuck his nose into the side of James’s neck, breathing deeply. 

Bucky walked them both towards his bed, stopping only when his knees hit the mattress. Steve looked down at Bucky’s white sheets, his face a mask of complex indecision. 

‘Are you sure?’ he breathed,

‘I’m sure,’ Bucky replied, because what other answer could he possibly give? 

Bucky’s hands fell to Steve’s hips, stroking them through his shirt. Steve took off his jacket, and Bucky lifted the hem of his shirt. Steve held eye contact until the moment his shirt was pulled over his head, but once he was shirtless he seemed shy. Bucky couldn’t see why – Steve’s chest was an impossible expanse of pale, Irish skin, dotted with a few freckles but otherwise smooth. His stomach was toned and trim, the muscles relaxed, moving in and out with Steve’s quick breaths. The skin off to the side of his abs was silky smooth, and Bucky trailed down it with his hands. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ Bucky whispered. 

‘Not as gorgeous as you,’ Steve replied. 

‘You haven’t even seen me yet,’ Bucky tried for levity, but it came out breathless and wanting. 

‘You’re already beautiful to me,’ came the reverent reply. 

Bucky swallowed down a sudden lump as Steve undid the ties on his smoking jacket and pulled it open. Underneath, Steve hummed in the back of his throat when he saw Bucky was in his night gown. 

‘I could just push this up, and you’d be there,’ Steve murmured, doing just that. With the night gown off, Bucky stood naked in his bedroom, feeling daring and exposed and so powerful. He bent, undid Steve’s belt, and pushed his pants down in one go. Steve stepped out of them, kicking off socks and shoes, and pulled Bucky upright. Steve brought their lips together for a searing kiss, stroking his hands all over Bucky’s body while pressing their naked chests together. Bucky, taking the final plunge, pulled down Steve’s undergarments. 

For a moment, the two of them stood close, not moving, just breathing each other’s air. Then, Bucky dared to look down, between Steve’s legs. A thatch of blond hair nestled around Steve’s heavy balls, vulnerable in their exposure. He was hard, flushed and purple and pointing straight forwards. Long and uncut, there was already a pearly bead forming at the head of Steve’s cock. Steve reached down to where Bucky’s own cock was paying attention, the head already growing an angry pink. Steve moaned when he got his hand around Bucky, tugging and squeezing just a little. Then it was Bucky’s turn to moan, for the feeling of Steve’s hand was at once cooling and electric. Steve’s fingers were blunt and steady, his other hand reaching down to cup Bucky’s balls. He didn’t pull on them, didn’t squeeze, just held them there in his cupped palm as he continued to tug at Bucky’s cock as though they needed to be protected. Bucky kissed Steve in warning, then pulled away and spread himself out on the bedspread. 

Steve took a moment to look down at Bucky. He pulled on his own cock for a few short strokes before following Bucky onto the bed and lying down next to him. Steve’s long legs draped over Bucky’s, safe and sturdy, anchoring him in the moment and in the bed, as Steve’s hand once again returned to Bucky’s cock. Bucky slipped his own hand down to Steve in return, and Steve responded by shifting his hips and widening his legs a little to give Bucky better access. They were a tangle of legs and arms in the bed, no longer two people but one roiling engine, warming up and opening the throttle a little more with each stroke. Their lips found each other again, both of them eager and no longer shy as they kissed with enthusiasm. Bucky broke the kiss to pant open-mouthed as Steve lowered his head to Bucky’s nipple, licking and sucking until it peaked against Steve’s lips and that was it, Bucky arched his chest up into Steve’s mouth and surged over the edge of orgasm, coming hard and proud across his own chest, not before he heard Steve give out a long moan and follow him over the edge. 

The two men lay together, sweaty and sticky, in the middle of Bucky’s bed. Panting, Steve leaned over to give Bucky one more sweet, tender kiss. After what they’d just done, it was a wonder that Steve could make anything seem sweet, but the sincerity and care which infused the kiss was unmistakable. 

‘James, that was…’ Steve started, before breaking out into a goofy smile. 

Bucky couldn’t help but smile back, despite the feeling of heartbreak that was growing inside him. He rose and fetched a cloth to wipe them both down, taking a moment to get his face under control as he did so. There was no going back now, and no other course of action to be taken. Once they were both cleaned up, Bucky pulled Steve into bed with him, where Steve immediately wrapped both arms around Bucky’s chest. Bucky sighed and embraced the warmth of having another body beside his own, something he hadn’t felt in a while. As the two of them drifted off to sleep, there was only one thought inside his head: he had to tell Steve the truth about who he was. 

#####  
Bucky felt as though his heart was broken in two. The fear of losing Steve as a lover pierced through his every interaction. At the theatre, Bucky found it harder and harder to talk to Steve as freely as he once did, fearing every moment that Steve would identify him. The hurt he imagined, over and over in his mind on Steve’s face when he found out the truth made Bucky nauseous. As they rehearsed over the new few weeks, he spent every day and night with Steve, although the stresses of being both Bucky and James were starting to wear on him. There never seemed to be the perfect moment to reveal to Steve who he was, and the longer he left it, the more scared he became. 

Currently, he was sitting and having tea with his father, Dottie and Lord Pierce, although his mind was on Steve. Bucky could think of nothing he wanted less than to take tea with his fiancée and her guardian, but as his father would not let him out of it, there really was no choice. He sipped at his tea in silence while Pierce sat across from him, staring him down with his cold eyes. 

‘So James, what became of that actor fellow?’

Bucky felt his cheeks flame into color. 

‘What fellow is that?’

‘You danced with him at the fundraiser. He stepped on your feet as many times as he spun you the wrong way, and his coat was buttoned all wrong. It was shocking, surely you remember that?’

Bucky gritted his teeth before taking a calming sip of tea. 

‘Of course I remember. That “fellows” name is Steve, he is my friend, and I was happy to dance with him that night.’

‘Don’t say such things in front of your fiancée,’ rumbled Bucky’s father, before sinking back into the cushions. Pierce smirked and eyed Bucky with obvious glee. 

‘Since you enjoyed it so much, I think I must know more about my fiancee’s _friend_. I have got us tickets to the opening night of the play, for you, me and Dottie. In fact, I bought us a box.’

‘Oh? What night is that?’ Bucky’s brain worked overtime trying to think of an excuse why he could not go with them. 

‘It is the day after tomorrow, James. Really, you can’t call that man a friend if you don’t remember anything about his play.’

Bucky hated Pierce with a fierce whipped flame in that moment, all the more so because he could not defend his love as he wished to. 

‘Well I cannot make it anyhow. I am busy.’

‘What are you busy at?’ demanded his father. _Great, now you pay attention,_ thought Bucky. 

‘I am promised to another friend,’ Bucky replied weakly, but from the look in his father’s eye he knew what was coming. 

‘Well break it off with this friend, James. Your fiancée is the more worthy engagement.’

Pierce smiled his predatory smile. 

‘Yes, father,’ gritted Bucky. The cold feeling in his stomach reached up and grabbed his windpipe, squeezing his heart in the process. 

 

#####

It seemed as though they were racing towards the opening night of the play. Steve’s time was entirely taken up between rehearsals, hanging out with Bucky at the diner afterwards, and his nightly visits to James’s bedroom. The two of them had grown close in the two weeks since they first got together, and now were spending every night together. Steve cherished the quiet calm of falling asleep together as much as their passionate lovemaking, all the more so for knowing that James would be married before long and their time would be cut short. 

Bucky, on the other hand, had grown more distant. There had been a time when Steve had counted Bucky as a friend, maybe even a close one. He had, after all, been there to give Steve advice about going to see James. Since then, though, he had pulled himself back and become quiet. He’d stopped talking to Steve outside of rehearsals, the barest few words possible. During rehearsals, Bucky refused to take off his costume, which included long, black robes and a black mask which covered the lower half of his face. 

At the last minute, Tony decided that the show needed promotional posters featuring the cast. The day before opening night, the cast assembled at the theatre, taking time out of the busy schedule of rehearsal and hysteria that always accompanied the last twenty-four hours before opening, to have promotional illustrations of them in costume done for the posters. Steve had been introduced to a tall, older man with a wild moustache and wavy dark hair who had introduced himself as Alfonse Mucha, the illustrator. Steve waited in costume as Alfonse sketched Bucky, who looked tall and regal and terrifying. Bucky held a prop dagger in one hand, the end bloodied, and stared out at Alphonse as though he was going to personally hunt down and kill his entire family. He made a very convincing Death. As Bucky was finished with and Steve was called forward, he tried to catch Bucky’s eye and smile, but Bucky turned his face away. Steve frowned as he moved forward into position, trying to adopt a noble pose as an Elizabethan Captain should. 

 

Later on that night, Steve lay in James’s bed and sighed heavily. They had finished a bout of lovemaking some time before, James bringing Steve to conclusion with his mouth before turning him and pushing him against the mattress so that James could rub his slicked cock between Steve’s ass cheeks until he came over his back. 

Now, lying in the bed, Steve was compelled to open up to James about Bucky. 

‘He’s just so distant. I thought we were friends, but now he seems to avoid me. I can’t figure out if I’ve done something wrong.’

Steve felt James stiffen in bed beside him, then relax. James shifted them both around so that he was spooning Steve, with his face pressed into the hair at the back of Steve’s neck. 

‘I don’t think you’ve done anything to upset him, Steve. You’re very considerate.’

Steve noted a strange flatness in James’s voice. He paused, trying to figure out what that could mean. 

‘What other explanation is there?’ Steve mused. 

From behind him, James gave a sigh. He shifted uncomfortably close, squeezed once, then pulled away. 

‘James?’ Steve rolled over to see what had caused his lover to break the snuggle. Usually James loved nothing more than to cuddle up and share body heat, especially after sex. 

‘Steve, there really is no other way to do this, so I…’ 

Steve didn’t like the look on Bucky’s face, guilty and scared and hopeless all together. 

‘James, my love, you are scaring me.’

‘Stevie –’

Steve watched as James got out of bed and started to pull his pants up, then his shirt. Once dressed, James looked helplessly down at Steve. 

‘I don’t think I can do this naked. Steve, get dressed.’

Wordlessly, Steve rose and walked purposely over to James. He took his shoulders in both hands and tried to hug him, but James pushed him away. 

‘No, Steve. I think you’ll want to be dressed, too.’

‘Are you gonna kick me out?’ Steve could hardly believe what he was seeing. 

James didn’t reply, but a pained look crossed his face. James crossed to his wardrobe, opened it, and brought out a laundry hamper from right against the back wall. He brought out a pair of shabby brown brogues which looked strangely familiar and put them on his feet. Then, he picked up a dark scarf and wound it around his face. Steve’s breath caught in his lungs as James put on a shabby brown cap. 

‘Bucky?’

James turned. With the scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, those washed-slate eyes popped out. Right now they were filled with emotion, overpowering in its intensity so that Steve could immediately see through the iceberg tears filling James’ – _no, Bucky’s_ \- eyes into the storms beneath. The pain and tension in those eyes was so powerful that Steve had to take a step backwards. 

‘Is it you? Has it been you all along?’

Steve felt like he was leaving the ground behind him. His own hands felt miles away from his body. He saw Bucky nod like he was looking through a veil. In a cold, detached sort of way, the only thought he had was that yeah, he did kind of wish he was dressed right now. He was aware of his own nakedness in a way that he never had been with James so far. 

James took a step towards Steve, and he thought that he flinched back in return. Maybe he didn’t, but either way, James stopped moving. His hands fell to his sides, useless. Steve thought of all the times those hands had been on him, not just as James and he laid in the bed together but also at the theatre, Bucky offering him a hand up after a demanding scene, or slinging an arm around him after rehearsals when he’d just agreed to be dragged out for a cup of coffee, Bucky’s hands holding the dagger in the promotional posters that would be everywhere in the city by tomorrow night, as though the dagger had pierced his own heart, and it was his own red blood that was dripping down in the illustrations. In his head, Steve asked a million questions, sought out a million inconsistencies, and at the same time answered them. The weight of the sudden answers pressed down around his ears, so that Steve was not able to hear another word. 

‘I trusted you.’

James made a little huff, air with a thread of pain running through it. 

‘James, or Bucky or whatever your name is, who are you really?’

‘My name is James Barnes. “Bucky” is a childhood nickname. I told you that was my name because I didn’t want anyone at the theatre knowing who I really am.’

‘Including me.’

‘At the start, yes. But then – I didn’t mean to deceive you, please, if you don’t take anything else away from here, please, know that. I joined the theatre company for the love of it. I met you and then I fell in love with you, I didn’t mean to hurt you. My father won’t let me anywhere near a stage, only perhaps to watch an opera or attend an opening, but never to actually perform, much less earn a wage from it. Meeting you was the best thing about this play, and deceiving you was the worst. I just couldn’t let anyone find out, or else my father will send me away. I have been kept away from something I love all my life, but I don’t want to stay away from you. In answer to your question, no I’m not kicking you out, but if you want to leave, I’ll understand.’

The haunted look in James’s eyes didn’t quite reach out as far as Steve, who stood in the corner of the room as his world broke apart, and put itself back together again. Everything was different now, everything was broken. If he couldn’t trust James, how would they survive? Steve thought back to all the times he’d ranted to Bucky about how he liked James, all the advice that Bucky had given him, manipulating him into doing exactly what James wanted. 

‘I have to leave. I need some time to think about this, I can’t – I can’t deal with this right now.’ 

‘Steve –’

‘I’ll see you at the theatre tomorrow.’

With that, Steve turned, opened the balcony door, and jumped out. 

#####

The day of the opening performance dawned clear and bright. Bucky made his way to the theatre feeling as though a lead weight was balanced precariously above his head, one wrong move and it would fall and crush him. He got through the final dress rehearsal – he didn’t know how – avoiding Steve’s eye and leaving the backstage area as soon as he was able. He burst out of the stage door and sat on a trash can while the others were sharing their customary pre-opening night meal, feeling as though he would never keep any food down ever again. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked – Pierce and his niece would be leaving for the theatre now, expecting to meet Lord Barnes in the foyer. Pierce was expecting to introduce his niece to her future husband. Instead, he was sitting curled in an alley surrounded by broken scenery and bags of old playbills, hyperventilating into his hands. 

When he was called into the theatre, he had been outside for so long that his hands and face were numb. Unable to stop himself, Bucky snuck out onto the stage behind the red velvet curtain and peeked at the crowd. As though he was compelled, his eyes drifted upwards to where Lord Pierce and Dottie sat alone in their box. He couldn’t see the expression on Pierce’s face, but he knew it must be thunderous. Dottie sat a little apart from him, not saying a word. Her head was tilted a little towards the stage and Bucky had the strangest feeling that she was looking right at him and seeing him for who he was. The force of her gaze, even through the air of the auditorium, was enough that he had to withdraw, shivering slightly. 

The play went well. That was the only thing that he could say about it. Everything else was still in a blur of loneliness and longing and fear. Bucky only just managed to keep his eyes from wandering to Pierce’s box every time he was onstage, wondering how much trouble he would be in when he got home. He stalked the stage, Death personified, always lurking in the background of every scene, sometimes subtly manipulating a piece of scenery or tapping someone on the shoulder, silently steering the scenes and engineering the fates of the other players. He knew it looked ominous, threatening, and it was exactly what Tony and Bruce wanted from him. At the end of the play, the big scene where Steve’s character died, Bucky performed the whole thing without once looking Steve in the eye. He danced the powerful, predatory dance of Death around Steve, always making it look as though he might escape, before swooping in at the last second to claim him. Having his hands all over Steve, having the man collapse into him and puddle at his feet, Bucky got a quick impression of how fast Steve’s heart was beating and how he subtly reacted to every touch of skin on skin before it was over. He and Steve held their positions, himself craning down as Steve reached up, their bodies making a yearning shape onstage, as the lights went down and the orchestra in the pit started up the final movement. 

It was over. The opening night was done. Bucky could hardly believe it as the curtain fell in front of them and he offered Steve a hand up. Steve looked at him for the first time that evening, blinked, and opened his mouth to say something – 

‘You did great!’ Sam rushed the stage and hugged them both, unaware of the tension. Tony emerged from the wings, sheaves of prompts in his hand, and joined them. Soon, most of the cast was hugging backstage, their joy almost infectious, even to Bucky. Soon, Bruce, ever the sensible one, was pushing them into a chorus line so that they could take their bow. As the curtain came up on them, Bucky standing next to Steve at the center of the stage, he felt Steve’s hand brush his. Bucky flinched, and resisted the urge to turn and grab onto Steve tightly. They bowed once, twice, and then he and Steve stepped forward for their individual bows. As Bucky bent at the waist for the last time that night, he felt his mask shift, loosen, and fall off his face. It landed on the stage, skidded, and fell down into the orchestra’s pit. 

Time slowed down. The clapping of the audience continued, unaware of how Bucky’s life was collapsing in front of them. He straightened, trying to keep his face away from the lights, but some inexorable force compelled him to turn to Pierce’s box and check if he’d been recognized. 

He had. 

Pierce was standing with his hands gripping the front balcony, leaning so far over that he looked as though he could leap right over the balcony and down to the stage to crush Bucky with his bare hands. Bucky’s only thought was to get off the stage before anyone else recognized him, so as soon as the lights started to dim, he rushed away. He didn’t see Steve’s confused, hurt look after him, or the way Steve’s eyebrows rose as he followed where Bucky had been looking and saw Pierce stomp away from his box with his shoulders tight. 

Bucky ran to the shared dressing room, madly ripping off his costume. With his legs half into his worn trousers, he didn’t stop to put on a shirt, just pulled his coat over his bare chest and shoved his cap onto his head. Winding his cheap woolen scarf around his neck, he headed for the stage door. If only he could get back home before Pierce found him, he could perhaps concoct some story to explain his absence that didn’t involve him moonlighting as an actor in a disreputable part of Brooklyn. Bucky burst out of the stage door, not caring for stealth, straight into the path of Pierce’s walking cane, which whipped a line of fire across his face. 

Bucky fell to the floor, dazed. Pierce stood over him with eyes full of such hatred that he cowered a little. 

‘Did you think that you could get away with this?’ Pierce hissed, the words coming out oddly flat, ‘Did you think that we wouldn’t find out? That the only son of Lord George Barnes is a degenerate? Flirting with that young man, engaging in spectacles like your little _dance?’_

Pierce paused to whip Bucky with his cane again, this time across the front of his throat as he lay groaning on the ground, the stone harsh under his back. 

‘And now, you disgrace my niece by standing up there on stage, showing the world who you are, showing us your true, disgusting nature. Well, you’re lucky I’m here and not your father. I’m only going to teach you a lesson; your father would kill you if he knew what you are. You’ll come back with me and marry my Dottie, and if you put one more foot out of line I’ll tell your father who you really are. But first, you have to learn your lesson.’

Pierce raised his cane once more, and Bucky put all his energy into struggling up onto his knees. 

‘You’ll do nothing of the sort.’

That voice – that was Steve. Bucky just knew it, even before he looked back, but it was Steve as he had never heard him before. The anger and righteousness surging through Steve’s body and blazing out of his face were such as Bucky had never known. All Steve’s soft lines and blushes were gone, replaced by a lion of a man, storming toward Pierce like an iceberg toward a ship. Bucky watched as Pierce swung his cane towards Steve instead, but Steve just caught it in one hand, as though it were nothing, pulled it away, and snapped it in two over his knee. Pierce swung out with his fist, catching Steve’s jaw, and Steve staggered backwards, but managed to catch Pierce’s next blow with his shoulder instead of his temple. Steve countered, breaking Pierce’s nose with a gunshot-loud crack. Pierce fell back, clutching his face. 

‘Run away now, Lord Pierce. If you ever come near Bucky again, I’ll break something else.’

Pierce glared out at Steve, pale eyes luminous with rage in a face that was a bloodied mess. For a moment, Bucky thought he would charge Steve again and then it would be all over, but instead, he put his hand down, spat blood on Steve’s shirt, and slunk away. 

Bucky sagged with relief, closing his eyes as he panted on the floor. His eyes flew open again as he felt Steve’s large hands lifting him up, hugging him close. 

‘Steve, what –’

‘Shh, Bucky, don’t try and talk. He got you pretty bad across here,’ Steve’s hand was warm across Bucky’s neck and shoulders, ‘so you should rest your voice. Come with me, my place isn’t far from here.’

Bucky felt like he was struck dumb, following Steve trustingly through the mess of back alleys and slum tenements until he reached Steve’s room. Inside, it was cramped and cold, nothing like Bucky’s own spacious, heated house, but it was homely. Bright knitted blankets covered the threadbare couch, washing was strung up like bunting across the window, and the walls were covered with charcoal drawings pinned there without frames. Steve made Bucky take a seat on the couch and drew a blanket around his shoulders. Bucky couldn’t help but turn his head so that his cheek brushed against the scratchy wool – it smelled so comfortingly of Steve and safety that he almost cried.

While Steve went into the little kitchen to make tea, Bucky tried to calm down and focus on his surroundings. He still felt numb inside from what had happened in the alley outside the theatre, but just being in Steve’s home for the first time gave him a sliver of warm hope, like stirring up the embers of a fire you thought had gone out only to find that they were still red-hot underneath. He noted that several of the drawings on the walls were of him, both as Bucky and as James, which made the coals inside himself glow even warmer. 

The first sip of hot tea soothed his throat enough that he coughed several times and drew in a long, calm breath. 

‘Stevie, I –’

‘Buck – umm, James – oh, never mind. Bucky, I have something I need to say.’

Bucky’s embers started to fade and go cold. 

‘I was so happy, being with James, and I was so happy to have Bucky as my friend. I couldn’t believe that the two of you… You confused me, scared me, telling me who you really are, but now I’ve had time to think about it. I’m with you, Buck, to the end of the line, if you’ll have me.’

Steve’s speech was a bellows to Bucky’s embers, breathing life and heat into them once more. The flames of his hope and love roared in his ears as he leaned in and kissed Steve like he’d longed to do since Steve left him alone that night. 

They kissed like dying men with their first drink of water, like hot metal plunging into cold water they were forged together. Their kisses were passionate, loving, and Bucky had the wonderful thought that he could enjoy this for the rest of his life. When Steve broke the kiss, panting and grinning, Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. 

‘You should stay with me tonight, Buck. Here. Don’t go back to your house, please stay with me here.’

Bucky could only nod, and surged forward to kiss Steve again. Steve only gave his a brief kiss, before hugging him close, burying his own nose in Bucky’s neck just like Bucky had done to Steve’s blanket moments before, when all had seemed lost. 

‘I missed you so much, Buck,’ Steve whispered into his neck, ‘not just in bed but also at the theatre. I missed your friendship as much as I missed your touch.’

‘You don’t care that I lied to you?’ Bucky had to check, had to make sure. 

‘I don’t care that you lied to me. Whoever you truly are, whatever you call yourself, you’re the man I love. That’s not going to change.’

‘Steve! I love you too, so much.’

Bucky thought his heart would burst open with joy that evening. The two of them lay in Steve’s narrow bed, holding each other like neither was prepared to ever let go again, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

When Bucky woke the next day, it was to Steve’s face inches from his own, breathing calmly as Steve watched him wake. He felt whole again, perfectly safe in the arms of the man he loved and who loved him right back. 

#####

Their fragile, hard-won peace couldn’t last. Steve knew that as soon as he said goodbye to Bucky at the door with kisses and promises of meeting up before tonight’s show. It was only two hours after Bucky left that there came a knock at the door. Bucky was standing outside looking miserable, with a split lip and a large bruise on his temple. When Steve opened the door, Bucky fell into his arms and sobbed. Steve barely got them both to the couch before Bucky curled over on himself and wailed. 

‘My father’s kicked me out. Pierce told him about me being an actor, about us being together, oh God, and my father…’ Bucky dissolved into incoherency and Steve could do nothing but hold him and soothe him with little cuddles and the warmth that his arms could provide. 

‘I’ve got nowhere to go, no money, my father has disinherited me… I’ve got nothing, and it’s all my stupid fault.’

You haven’t got nothing, Buck. You’ve got me.’ 

Steve was firm on that. His voice sounded steady, and although he expected that this would be hard, in fact it was the easiest thing in the world. 

‘You can stay with me, Buck, for as long as you like. We’ve both got an income from the play, for now, that’ll be enough. Don’t worry, my love, you’ll be alright.’

Bucky sniffed and looked up at Steve through wide, liquid eyes. 

‘You can’t mean that, Steve. You can’t just invite me to stay…’

‘Yes I can, and I believe I just did. Bucky, I love you, and I want you to stay here with me. I almost lost you once and I don’t want to do it again.’

Bucky buried his head in Steve’s chest once more, and he could feel the wetness of tears soaking his shirt.  
‘I love you too, Steve. I never thought I would find love, but you…’

‘Until the end of the line, Buck.’ Steve held out his hand to Bucky. 

Bucky took it. ‘Until the end of the line.’

 

**THE END.**


End file.
